


full to bursting

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex, don't read if you have an issue with that sorry, no safe words basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: Will wants to try something new with Hannibal after they are both sated.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 209





	full to bursting

Hannibal prides himself on his mental capabilities. 

The times in his life when his brain does not function in the poised manner it usually tends to are scarce and often improbable to come across. 

However, Will Graham riding him as if he were a racehorse stallion is amongst those few, rare encounters. He cannot think, cannot hear, can’t do so much as breath as he watches him and trails his hands all over pale, sweat sheen flesh. Will presents himself as a delicacy in these instances, and it is hard to feel anything but hunger.

“Fuck, Hannibal,” He stutters over his words as his rhythm wavers. He rocks slowly back into a punishing pace, a hand running through Hannibal’s chest hair, tangling his fingers through it, tugging, and trailing up to grip his throat. It is a clutch, to balance himself, but it short circuits the remaining brain functions in Hannibal’s mind.

His eyes flutter shut on their own, a tragedy which discontinues his ability to gaze mindlessly into Will’s dark stare. In the shadows, they are black voids behind fluttering eyelashes. Sweetness mixed with something approaching savory. 

Will’s grip around his throat tightens and Hannibal’s hips thrust up hard. This earns a choked groan, and when Will clenches around Hannibal’s cock, it sends him past the precipice far too soon for his liking. His eyes shoot open and he grabs at Will’s thighs without contemplating doing so. Will rocks to a near stop as Hannibal’s hips stutter up and his breaths turn into near whines, coming out quick and high-pitched. 

It is rare he comes before Will. In fact, it’s perhaps happened only twice in their seven months here. And they have a fair amount of sex considering their ages. 

Hannibal’s cock, now spent and wet, slips out of Will as Will throws a leg over him, settling by his side. He is still high-strung and needy like a kitten thirsty for milk. He gnaws at Hannibal’s jaw and strokes his nails up and down his sternum. 

“Hannibal,” he mumbles hotly under his ear. Hannibal turns, reaches down between them to stroke Will to his release, but Will catches his wrist in a tight hold. 

Hannibal’s brain functions are only beginning to return to their full capacity. It is because of this less than sharp mindset that he forgets.

“Can we try it?” Will asks, eyes round and imploring. 

He is so caught up in the muss of Will’s hair, sticking to his forehead, dark with sweat, and the brazen blue eyes which beg for him to answer that he doesn’t understand what Will is asking until Will’s grip tightens on his in desperation. 

Will does not lack spontaneity, even in the bedroom. 

A month or so ago, Will had requested something extreme. Ground rules had not been placed, as boundaries were so faded between them already. Hannibal can remember his words vividly, explorative and determined to get what he wanted. 

_“The next time you come first, I want you to jerk me off, but when I come I want you to keep going. Even if I beg you to stop, even if I claw at you and rip out strands of your hair. You’ll make me come twice.”_

Overstimulation is something that Will has only indulged in for moments at a time, always in the situation of Hannibal continuing to thrust inside his warm body even after he’s come. Only if he asks, and he _always_ asks. 

He had nearly forgotten about the request, the thought not even crossing his mind as he came inside Will before Will even had a chance to touch himself. 

“Are you sure?” Hannibal asks because he is not without common courtesy. 

Will is grinding his hard cock against Hannibal’s leg. He sucks his teeth with a resulting click, amused at Hannibal’s concern. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to come first for weeks. I thought about it everyday,” Will nips at the space under his collar bone. “Will you be able to do it?”

“Perhaps too well,” Hannibal responds, lifting them both up. “Once I start, I won’t stop. Those were the stipulations if I recall.” He takes Will’s chin with two fingers. “I wouldn’t want you to go unsatisfied because of a minor technicality.” 

Will jerks his face out of his grip. “Not stopping is the point.” 

“So no safe words then?” Hannibal wants to make sure. These types of matters require precision, and though not having a safe word is perhaps a danger within itself, he wants to make sure this choice is mutually agreed upon. 

“There has never been a word passed between us you could consider safe,” Will derides sourly, but his cock is still red, wet at the tip, and he’s leaning into Hannibal like a drug addict, running hands over him with intention. 

“Very well, then.” Hannibal scoots to the middle of the bed and gestures Will to sit in front of him. His thighs bracket Will’s, and his chest is pressed flush to his back. With only a moment’s hesitation, Hannibal strokes a hand down Will’s cheek, relishing in his soft give before he begins. “Place your right hand in my hair.” 

Will does, gripping lightly. Hannibal can picture him tearing at it later, screaming as he tugs and tugs. Hannibal appreciates that a strong head of hair runs in his family. 

“Do not let go until it is over. Place your left hand beside you.” 

Hannibal grips his wrist when he does, prohibiting him from moving it. 

Before he reaches his free hand around Will, he can feel how stiff he is against him. He kisses his neck gently, feels the tendon against his lips strain into his touch.

“Are you frightened, Will?”

His scent does not smell especially fearful, his arousal still at its peak.

“I’m more frightened about _not_ being nervous,” Will admits, shifting until he is comfortable. His cock is still hard, going untouched for too long. 

Hannibal finally wraps a hand around it, feeling when Will stops tensing and gives into the sensation. He groans, neck resting against Hannibal’s shoulder as he strokes him slowly. Will’s erection had not flagged in the slightest. Excitement vibrates off his skin.

“I am confident in my abilities to give you what you desire,” Hannibal says into his ear because he knows his voice drives Will crazy when he’s like this. “However, if I were to give into your pleas for me to stop, would you have a punishment in mind?” 

“Several,” Will says with a staggering moan, not missing a beat. “God, excruciatingly painful punishments, you wouldn’t want to be near me for days if you don’t do what you’re told.” 

Hannibal tightens his grip around Will’s shaft, focusing on pushing the spongy-wet head of his cock through the tight circle of his fist on every stroke up. 

“A cruel boy you are,” Hannibal whispers, licking at the lobe of his ear before sucking a bruise into his neck. “I stand in worship at your sweet malevolence.”

Will can hardly chuckle at the absurdity of his words before a sharp whine escapes his throat. “God, I’m close,” he says in a rush. 

Hannibal can tell from the way he is thrusting his hips into Hannibal’s fist. He had been close riding Hannibal too, staving off his orgasm as he’s been attempting to do for a month, waiting for this very moment. He’s not staving it off anymore, chasing his pleasure with abandon, ready for Hannibal to draw pain and unspeakable things out of him with just his hand. 

After a particularly skilled twist of the wrist, Will jolts, white hot pleasure running through him as he approaches his climax. Hannibal keeps his pace mediocre, hoping to avoid any ache in his arm, and to give Will a taste of reprieve before the bittersweet torture he had requested commences. 

Will’s hand tightens in Hannibal’s hair, the other remaining pinned under Hannibal’s grip. His thighs fall open further, pressing sticky against Hannibal’s as he arches against him. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he mutters, hips thrusting once, twice more until he’s coming.

A warm, white release spurts out of his cock onto Hannibal’s hand and the bedspread between Will’s thighs. He has to refrain from his urge to lick the mess clean, though he wonders if Will could one day be open to overstimulation in the form of Hannibal’s mouth. 

He gives Will only a few seconds to collect himself, stroking slowly over his cock, coating it with his come, inadvertently making what’s coming much easier. 

Without any more preamble, Hannibal starts jerking Will’s cock at a brutal pace. The slide is slick and obscenely noisy, and if Hannibal were younger, it would be enough to rev him up again. Will makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut, stiffening and tensing as he attempts to adjust to the ministrations. Hannibal is panting, focusing every part of himself into maintaining the pace. Fast, unforgiving, just what Will had wanted.

Will lets out absolutely ruined sounds as he attempts to bear it. More ruined than when he’d been stabbed. More so than the first time Hannibal had fucked him. 

Hannibal speaks soothing words in Lithuanian into the crook of his neck. While Will cannot understand them, he hopes they have the desired effect of drawing him out of his mind, out of the intense overstimulation of that void. 

Will’s neck is craned so far back against his shoulder, he can see almost every part of his angelic face. It is scrunched up with effort, grimacing over and over again as Hannibal’s hand unrelentingly strokes him. 

“Please.” The word tumbles from his lips, and Hannibal cannot tell if he is begging for more or begging him to stop. He does not have the luxury to listen to the demand.

Hannibal must commend him for his ability to take it for so long, with barely more than whimpers and pleading, pained noises that come unwillingly from the back of his throat. It is only when Hannibal must slow his hand for enough time to restore some energy, when he rubs a thumb over the head of Will’s cock, Will releases a sharp wail. 

His legs clamp together out of self-preservation, nearly crushing Hannibal’s arm. He is prepared for this, throwing his legs over Will’s to pry his thighs apart. He continues the quick pace he had set before, not stopping even as Will’s cries grow pained and hurt. He has to revert some of his focus to keeping Will’s hand at his left side pinned to the mattress. Will does not move his other hand from Hannibal’s hair, tugging harshly now until Hannibal hears himself grunt. 

“I know,” Hannibal croons in a whisper, feeling Will’s thighs tense powerfully under his legs. He is a strong man, and he feels sympathy for the fact Will cannot physically overpower him in this way. He kisses Will’s neck softly, trying to balance out the agony he is drawing out of him. 

“Hannibal.” Will’s voice is no more than a shrill breathy noise. “St... sto….st–” 

He can’t get the word ‘Stop’ out of his mouth. He can barely form words at all, what comes from his mouth is a collection of mindless gibberish and broken moans. He trembles against Hannibal, and Hannibal has to lean forward to see Will’s expression shifting manically, as if he were on the verge of an episode. 

Hannibal thinks morbidly of his seizures, and he grips tighter, entranced by the memory melding into the one he’s making now.

“Give into it, Will,” Hannibal implores, tightening the hold on his wrist. 

“I, I can’t, I–” Will squirms, jolting hard, unable to escape Hannibal’s firm hold on him. He shakes and Hannibal can see tears. The hand in Hannibal’s hair falls; Will has disobeyed his rule to keep it there as he grips at the arm which is jerking him to a painful second release. He is trying to pry Hannibal’s arm away from him, weakly unable to do more than slow him for a moment. Hannibal cruelly swipes a thumb repeatedly over the head of his cock, continuing until Will lets out a shrill, shocked noise, kicking out one of his legs which is still pinned by Hannibal’s. 

Hannibal feels when it begins to become pleasurable again. Will’s responses start to become muted, his groans and staccato shouts becoming nothing more than continuous whimpers and pleas, pleas which sound more like him begging for Hannibal to keep going. He stops tensing, relaxing against Hannibal’s body even as he twitches, still feeling aftershocks from minutes prior.

His cock which had flagged significantly for a while between has started growing hard again, soon heavy and hot in Hannibal’s grip, still wet with drying come. Hannibal peers down to find it a darker red than before, stained from abuse. 

“Do you know how beautiful you look?” Hannibal mutters in his ear, when he’s reasonably sure Will is starting to process his words again. “The sight of you wrecked beyond recognition is enough to kill me.” 

Will whines, hand running over Hannibal’s forearm, encouraging now. 

“Please,” he says again, “Christ, _please_.” 

He sucks gentle kisses into his neck before speeding up his hand one last time. Will chokes on air as his hips rise up desperately to meet him. “Fuck, Hannibal, I’m close.” 

“Come, darling,” He says in a low voice. “I want to see you.” 

Will arches his back, head thrashing as he climaxes for a second time. He convulses against Hannibal, crying out in a stunned groan, his orgasm going on for a significantly longer time than normal. Hannibal would say he counted nearly a minute. Will comes down with deep breaths, slouching limp against his chest.

Hannibal scoops up the thin trickle that had released from his cock, bringing the clear liquid to his lips to lick clean. Will turns to watch him, eyes glazed over and distant. 

He lowers Will horizontally onto the bed, making sure he is resting on a pillow. He strokes Will’s hair back from his eyes taken aback from the pure, unbridled affection in his gaze. He stares back at him, and only him, not taking his eyes off him for one moment. The question, _are you alright_ , lingers in the air between them. 

Will finally closes his eyes with a smile and says “I saw stars.” His voice is soft, not nearly as hoarse and ravaged as Hannibal would prefer. 

“Were they bright?” Hannibal continues to stroke his hair. 

“They were dark,” Will’s eyes shoot open and he looks as if he is in another world entirely. “Darkness is all I care for.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't going to exist until today. i'd been trying to write this other one for dayssssss and was getting nowhere and suddenly i got inspired for this because apparently my brain only wants to write dirty dirty sin, anyway, i hope this was enjoyable. i'll probably finish my not-horny one sometime soon hopefully. if i can manage it lMAo.


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